


Don't Tell Me

by Bloggingbirds



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: I'm so sorry, Multi, Real sad stuff coming up here folks, had to get out my feelings somehow, major spoilers tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-23 22:33:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19710823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloggingbirds/pseuds/Bloggingbirds
Summary: More important than telling them what all would happen when he passed, Noctis tells them instead that he loves them.





	Don't Tell Me

Noctis had never told them what would happen after. Honestly it had been too difficult to talk much about the act itself to begin with. He had come back to them after so long, an unfamiliar face but a familiar touch that told of everything in the way he curled into all three of them that very first moment. The way his hands curled into Ignis’s shirt and the way he let his weight rest against Gladiolus’s chest and the same familiar way his lips found Prompto’s spoke more than Noctis ever could. Something was coming. Something that would tear them apart from each other. It had been ten years and still this was all the reunion they would have. There was no need to spend tonight talking about the future they wouldn’t have or the past they all hadn’t been a part of when there would only be tonight, when all that was said was said with mouths and heated touches and little whispers of ‘highness’ and ‘please’ and ‘missed you so much. Love you, love you, love you.’ How could there be room to talk about what life would be like without Noctis when they were too busy with things like that? 

But, huddled in the back seat of the regalia a sweaty cramped mess with the top down and seats reclined all the way back (not that the tent hadn’t been set up, but the prince had mumbled something about wanting to spend his last night in a place that felt like home) Noctis had told them of what was to come in so little words, whispered things about prophecy and his subjects and duty. Whispered into their skin how much he had missed them, how he would be with them to the very end, how they would see each other again. No matter what they would be together again someday. There was no mention of the actual act, if he was scared or if it would hurt or what would happen after. What would become of him or if he would get to say a proper goodbye.

Proper goodbyes had been dashed against the rocks then, the three of them having no place in this fight. Not that they didn’t try to stay awake, stay present. But as much as they loved noctis it wasn’t enough to fight magic much older than themselves, and when they were coming to it was to dawn through the crumbled walls of the citadel and the king in his rightful throne. For a horrible minute all three of them had felt their hearts stop at the same time, the smallest whisper of hope. Noctis was fine, Noctis had won, the gods had granted them all a mercy and let them hang onto their love for just a little bit longer. Daylight was finally here and their king would be with them to lead them through rebuilding their world. 

But Noctis hadn’t told them what would happen after. Somehow, with all the magic surrounding the prince they had all thought that when it was his time to go he would walk off into some magical light and his body would be no more, that they could just pretend that he was off on whatever astral plain bullshit that gave him his powers, living happily with Umbra until he could come back to them. It was supposed to be a clean affair. Noctis hadn’t told them that he would still be here, slumped over in the throne with drying blood staining the marble. He hadn’t told them that it looked like it had hurt, that even now his face was frozen in a pained expression. He hadn’t told them they wouldn’t have been able to say goodbye. 

Prompto, as always, is the first on his feet. Stumbling up ruined stone steps he doesn’t falter when he loses his footing, just getting right back up to make it back to his best friend, but unlike how he had jumped so freely on Noctis despite the royal decorum of maybe not doing that to a prince no matter how close you are, he freezes. Noctis doesn’t open his arms like he always does, still as can be. It’s the king’s loyal shield that takes him into his arms first, brushing past prompto to take him down from the throne, and how terrible even just thinking that feels. Like Noctis was some possession, some tool only meant to end the scourge plaguing their world and not the love of their lives. Not a boy who loved to fish and wouldn’t touch anything leafy and green if his life depended on it. Not someone who would watch them over the campfire with hooded eyes before crawling into the lap of whoever was closest, humming things about princely duties to his people or whatever terrible excuse he had like they wouldn’t give him the world if he just looked at them and asked. 

He had always looked so small in Gladiolus’s arms, his hands large and calloused against the soft ivory of Noctis’s skin, able to wrap around one of his entire thighs. But like this, so still and tired, Noctis looked downright tiny, Prompto’s wail breaking the silence of the citadel as Ignis stumbles up, curatives falling out of his bag as he fumbles desperately, potions just breaking and settling on his clothes, phoenix downs doing nothing but wetting themselves in his blood. Noctis told them he was going, but he didn’t tell them it would hurt this badly. 

Noctis had never told them they would have to be the pallbearers for his casket. It wasn’t part of the ritual, was for long after he was gone. It was something that was supposed to be too far away for them to think about because god knew Gladiolus was going to outlive them all but he was still supposed to be old and frail by the time the king’s funeral arrangements were being made. He hadn’t told them that to bring the sun back to Insomnia meant that all three of them would have to stand guard over the open casket as mourners passed by, kissing his cheeks and wailing over his body like they knew him, like they themselves had suffered the loss. Like they would never again get to see the private way he would duck his head and smile when he was pleased with himself but all his royal training demanded he not show it. He hadn’t told them he would be buried in his wedding suit, the very same one that he lamented over having to wear at the beginning of their journey and telling them that even if he had to marry Luna they could have some little private ceremony of their own after, that everyone else would never know the real truth. 

There had been no time between words of love for Noctis to warn them how heavy his casket felt on their shoulders, how their muscles would ache for days after from the strain, or how hard it would be for his three loyal retainers to throw the first shovels of dirt over him. To leave him there when there had barely ever been a point where one of them wasn’t at his side. Noctis hadn’t warned them just how nice the weather would be that day and how they were probably the only three in Insomnia who wished for clouds. 

The three of them are barely ever together anymore after that day. It’s too painful. They had loved each other, still did, but there would always be a spot missing in their bed. Being with each other just proved that. It wasn’t like they hadn’t tried, but halfway through Prompto had felt tears on the back of his neck from the normally stoic Ignis and Gladiolus hadn’t been able to do much more than run his hands over his body, fingers brushing the scars from that final battle. So, they stopped. Eventually it just became easier to become tied up in their own things if only to forget. As much as they had loved Noctis they still had a role to play, and it was easier to fall into that than to give up and mourn. Noctis had given his life for this place, for their people, and they couldn’t let that go to waste. 

Ignis had moved back into Lestallum, helping with the relief and evacuation efforts to get everybody back into what was left of their rightful homes. You could catch glimpses of him on the news sometimes, here his voice so much softer than it used to be on the radio, talking about economics and rebuilding plans and prospects for a bright future now that the wall around Insomnia was gone, no need for hiding away anymore.   
Gladiolus and Prompto hadn’t chosen the same path, retiring their kingsglaive titles and going their separate ways. It was often that you could find Gladiolus in the garage in hammerhead, wheeled under a car and covered in grease. He had always found that keeping his hands busy kept his mind clear, stripping vehicles of the anti-daemon measures they had come to adopt over the past decade and tuning them up, leaving everyone fit and ready for wherever they were heading home to. Sometimes when that wasn’t enough if you looked hard enough past the farthest campsite you could find him swinging his broadsword, much clunkier and different than the ones he had been able to summon back when the crystal had still been around but none the less effective in taking out some of the more unruly beasts if only so he could collapse into his tent that night so exhausted that he wouldn’t dream. 

Prompto, wanting to leave every part of his past behind, had fled to Altissia, where they had stopped over for a brief time and he could remember being completely anonymous for once. Being at the right hand of the king, commoner though he was, garnered you some attention, and when the council had offered him a more permanent position Prompto had been quick to refuse. Here in Altissia no one looked at him with sad eyes and murmured about his lost prince. No, here there was plenty demand for a simple photographer. 

Noctis hadn’t warned them that when he went ahead, their bonds would be frayed too. But it wasn’t like they never saw each other. If there was one thing they kept up with it was the one tradition they had never let go, even if the reason for it wasn’t with them anymore. 

Being a prince meant a never ending list of duties, but the one day even his father would let Noctis play hooky was the day before his birthday. Never on the actual day, that was reserved for royal celebrations and dragging dinners with his kingsglaives standing guard the whole time. No, ever since he was a teenager the day before was the day Gladiolus would let him off from sparring, when Ignis would cancel his lessons and Prompto would skip school so they could all go out in the regalia, driving far with all their camping gear to his favorite fishing spot, the one right outside of Caem with the old run down Crowe’s nest with the waitress who always gave him extra fries just because it was his almost birthday. There was no talk of royal duties, his retainers didn’t even force vegetables down his throat, they fished until the sun went down and set up camp and if he was really lucky went out for a hunt for whatever local beast was plaguing the area. These trips had meant more to him than anything else, and when they got older it was his almost birthday that he kissed each one of them for the first time on, another where finally they fell into the tent together and he thanked them for everything they did for him the best way they knew how. The very last one had been when the prince had looked at them with red cheeks and bright eyes, holding a fish that it had taken all four of them pulling on the rod to catch and told them he loved them for the very first time, so excited about his catch that it had just slipped out. Not that it wasn’t returned. It had become a yearly thing, the only time all four of them got to be open and unabashedly together, completely free. It felt wrong to not continue it. 

So once a year, on his almost birthday, the three of them would meet at that old crowe’s nest with the waitress, aged now but still bringing out extra fries on the plate they always ordered but never touched, the burger with the lack of anything green or healthy on it that was probably just thrown to the dogs outside when they left for the old familiar haven. They didn’t speak much on these trips of what went on outside this place, but instead let it be the only time they allowed themselves to reminisce. It was always with a hint of sadness that they joked about how Noctis would whine that they needed to find a new fishing spot even if the next year when they brought it up he refused to come anywhere but here. How he would bounce around and brag as he held up the fishing line, lacking in so much and still somehow able to outdo each of them in this one aspect. How he would complain about Prompto’s constant photos but they would catch him smiling over each of them when he thought they weren’t looking. 

They always set a line for him even if it never caught anything, though one year Ignis had nearly jumped into the water to retrieve it when a passing fish had gotten tangled into the line. They had laughed until they cried then, sure that Noctis would have found that the funniest out of all of them. Though grateful that his precious rod was safe in a very soaked Ignis’s arms, curled around it like a lifeline. 

They cook what they’ve earned in silence then, the empty camping chair feeling strangely daunting because the last time he had sat there had been when Noctis had told them so little of what was to come. If he were to explain all this, everything that had happened and the pain and love they felt, none of them were sure that they would have been able to let him do it. Let the world stay in darkness, they had had their own little light right here. 

After they hunt, tracking down whatever beast might be nearby just to prove to each other that they were fine, that their skills hadn’t gotten rusty, that they could still protect themselves and if he had been with them protect him too. But it’s never quite challenging enough and by the time they get back to the tent they’re tearing the clothes off each other, rushed and hurried and desperate because this is all they have left and if they hurry it might still feel like they’re their old selves again. But by the end of it it’s gone soft, gentle touches and tears they didn’t let anyone else see outside these canvas walls, his name on their lips. Noctis didn’t warn them it would hurt this bad even in the soft moments. 

Its from one of these trips that the three of them wake in the backseat of the regalia, slumped over on each other. Which by all means doesn’t make sense. Nothing about the regalia had been salvageable when she had pushed them through to the citadel, no matter how each of them had tried. Theres something in the back of their minds, something about the almost-birthday and a behemoth that had been more than their aging bodies had been able to handle, but it feels too fuzzy and far away to get a grip on. More importantly this was the regalia, the scent of the leather and empty coffee cans in the cup holders bringing tears to their eyes. Not as much though as the glow of the fire from their haven in the distance. 

None of the three hesitate in how fast they’re stumbling out of the old girl, looking good as new, and none of them seem to know how or care that instead of bodies gone through wear and tear they’re back in their prime, like they had been during their last trip with Noctis and instead are focusing on getting to that fire, the peak of the tent coming into view. They didn’t need to know where they were and it didn’t matter because each one of them knew what was waiting for them at their haven. 

They pass the Crowe’s Nest, the fishing spot, the white and black dog curled together on the ground that don’t stir when they pass. None of them care, Gladiolus coming to a stop and the other two nearly slamming into him when they were on the outskirts of the haven, a familiar head of hair visible over the back of his camping chair, photos spread out over his lap. And then he turns. And it’s like everything they had been through is washed away when Noctis smiles at them, standing up and reaching out a hand, and they are home. 

Noctis didn’t tell them anything about what their lives would be like without him, but he did tell them one thing. Somehow, they would be together again.


End file.
